Sunday, May 29, 2016

May 29, 2016 The Sunday Whirl #Wordle #253/The Unthinkable Becomes the Norm -- Sunday's Whirl #61 Sunday's Whirligig/ Yesteday-- Poets United

The Unthinkable Becomes the Norm

with each tap of the hammer     the plaster cracks just a little           dust fills the air

chokes the throat          rolls into the darken corner                           a lifeless dustball

in the garden                                     a tender vine starts out so small

and yet can grow to be a monster                   just like the little shop of horrors

creeps over the wall               hard to get rid of                          can take over

seems to have a mind of its' own          chokes out other plants        flowers hang 

                                                                                                      like crimson tassels

early morning                 or early mourning                                     it is summer

but on this morning        there is a chill in the air                      one child shot

falls to the sidewalk            where he played                     shot

because he is poor           because he is black                            because he was there

because he lives in the hood                one child saved because he is white

because there is a gate where he lives     the trap was set          someone stepped in

unaware of the danger        will the trap hold                       or will he gnaw off his leg

and free himself                  the stories are diverse               the mother weeps

the mist clears                the sun shines                              there is no happy ending here

May 29, 2016



i am no longer moored          i have drifted away from my childhood home

washed up on a foreign shore     all day long             i searched the beach

collected shells          smooth round seeds             driftwood

i grew up near the water      now i call the desert home      in sight of the mountain

sacred mother              each morning i bless the mountain      and she blesses me

the ties are broken          so many have gone                 there is nothing left of home

when it is said               you can't go home again                 it is true

perhaps there is the street where we lived            but someone else lives there now

i enter a place of memory        i remember moma's      pies cooling on the back porch

crust tender and flaky        sweet tart red cherries               spilling on the plate

like blood on the sidewalk         a boy shot by police                 in the back

a hundred times                             charges dropped

mama's hug as we left for school      in memory            it is always summer barefoot

sundresses                  bees buzz                                     baseball in the vacant lot

butterflies dancing across the lawn     the smell of fresh cut grass         evening comes

fireflies sparkle        in the low light of evening                     as i grow older

so much i cast off       yet there is a pact with childhood     the bags i packed so long ago

filled with yesterdays           folded neatly                 memories of picnics on the beach

a boy i loved            marshmallows and hotdogs                  roasted over an open fire

laughter                    the safety of family                          memories come flooding back

May 28, 2016

Thursday, May 26, 2016

May 26, 2016 Writer's Digest/ Make the Effort

Make the Effort
there are no guarantees    simply be willing    make a start
you never know where it will take you    you want to be a writer     write
you want to be a dancer    dance    you want to be a singer
sing    anything you want is possible     just begin
sometimes the beginning is slow    other times     you know it is what you were supposed to do
i remember in the beginning    before a piece of white paper     breathtaking
no…i didn’t know what to do    where i was going    or if i would get there
but I did know    it was just important to begin    in this moment
my kitty    pushes the studio door open    opening doors is new for him
yet he is willing    to try    wants to find out what is on the other side
May 26, 2016

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

May 25, 2016 dVerse/ We Never Know --dVerse Open Link Night

We Never Know

Each farewell contains the implied hello      yes it is my intention to see you again

and yet...           each farewell could be the last               we never know

it has happened all too often            friends and lovers together for the last time

life too precious to hold        like a bird in a cage                we all need to be free

to live as we choose        to come and go without question            to roll in a ball

to bask in the sun                            to sing our song at the top of our lungs

no we never know              it has happened all too often     but for the one who is left

the last farewell can be a turning point                  so memorable

it can never be forgotten      each moment of the farewell          played over and over

i held my breath          you looked down             your eye lashes shadowed your cheek

you made pancakes for breakfast          took a shower                    called to me

i was late                      hurried out the door                                    closing it behind me

we never know       i promised i would return in the morning      you were no longer there

i sat by your bed        you took your last breaths            i loved you then...and always will

each time we part could be the last time                       each hello precious

May 25, 2016

Note:  When I think of the unintended farwells of my life.  Each one I wish could have been different, if only I had known.  But that is life, imperfect at its' best.

Friday, May 20, 2016

May 22, 2016 The Sunday Whirligig #60/ No Streetcar Can I Ride -- The Sunday Whirl Wordle #252/Emptiness -- Poets United Poets Pantry


the day ends         storm clouds gather on the horizon                all is quiet

except for an occasional thunder or flash of lightening              i have lost track

of when it last rained         the thirsty earth is waiting                as i stand waiting

i watch the horizon      it is as though            you have just disappeared from view

will reappear at any moment      as long as i live             you will be here with me

today is your birthday        you would have been 50                 hard to imagine

my son                               my little boy                                    a grown man

eyes of blue                       your funny smile                    how wise you had grown

today is late spring           summer is not far behind                  with its' hot breath

in the garden plays a familiar tune    on the wind chimes      still... before you know it

another year will pass     there is no stopping time              no way to fill the emptiness

wonder where you are        and how could this be                 i can make no sense of it

no myth or fairytale            can explain what has happened        the bell tolls

a clear peal                          summons worshippers                it is not that i am unwilling

to live fully each day        but there is always a price to pay       i have grown comfortable

                                                                                                               with emptiness

May 22, 2016


No Streetcar Can I Ride
this minute
this hour
the air still
no breeze in sight
nor felt upon my skin
no gritty sand between my fingers

        no fetid scents
no filthy faces

       in this twilight of my life
still searching
weighting and measuring
trying to get at “it”
...what is “it” after all

       still i am home
i work at home
no longer lost
sometimes found
the search continues
i walk in desert sand

broke down
broke back mountain
broken heart
in this moment breaking

        skunk cabbage
grows in the wetlands
grows in eastern america
smells awful
i leave it for skunks
...don't know if they like it or not

         each day the same
up early
make my bed
go to the studio
continue work
one day follows the one before
like soldiers in a parade

          vow to meet today
where yesterday left off
no streetcar can i ride
the journey long
the time short

May 20, 2016

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

May 18, 2016 Writer's Digest / A Napkin to Keep

A Napkin to Keep

                       folded white
within reach
catch the drip from my lips
                                                 like a kiss
wipe my fingertips

                       made of paper
of no great value
great for picnics

                       mother's best
touch of lace
washed and starched
folded just so
used on special occasions
appear on the table
each christmas

                       in the bar
served under the glass
a note between us
a love letter
from trash
to a treasured thing
                                                a keepsake

May 18, 2016

Sunday, May 15, 2016

May 15, 2016 The Sunday Whirl Wordle #251/Memories of the Last Time -- Sunday's Whirligig #59/The Neighborhood - Poets United

Memories of the Last Time

       today you would be fishing          dressed in white

to avoid certain burn            the sun already high in the sky

summer is here at last           last time/last meal/last words spoken

the flowers limp withered              where you left them

         hung a wreath on the door       to say you would not be coming back

the bay house      already a memory/already fading       my life through a screen

a little boy runs laughing                   a small black dog at his heels

           you arrive          pause to take a breath            straighten your shoulders

what is more/what is less      cover the mirror in the hall             with black cloth

                                                                                    one last look

            old friends together                    we walk through the empty house

                                     so many memories

                                                                                   so many years

we both raised children in this house                     today i leave it for the last time

May 15, 2016


The Neighborhood

       the sky is clear
the morning quiet
bewildered by the silence
of early morning
most still sleeping

silver tongued charlatans
dressed in their worsteds
bane of my youth
cunning with their words
church on sunday nights
put on a show
wrestle with the devil
you know
pass the plate

        all the while the moon
waxing and waning
paying no attention at all
the world i was born into
was a different world
a simple world
small town
it is touching to remember

         kids playing baseball until dark
outside at night
lightening bugs
hide and seek
the slam of the screen door
red rover
folks on the porch swing
saying howdy to the neighbors

          my childhood was blessed
angels were among us
the memory seems a far-away place
most of the characters have left the stage
things are different now

May 14, 2016

Thursday, May 12, 2016

May 12, 2016 dVerse Open Link Night #172/ I Remember Mama

I Remember Mama
                       i was a lucky one
my little mother
as kind as she could be
cared for me
never missed a day
kissed me off to school
and was there to welcome me home

                       a beautiful seamstress
she made clothes for me
i remember a favorite
red with a full skirt
i would spin around to see it flare
beautiful gowns for dances i would go

                       a terrific cook
could make anything
she made jam when the fruit was in season
make pickles, cakes and pies
her meals were best

                        when i was little
she often read to me
favorite stories
she taught me all the nursery rhymes
she introduced me to her love of poetry

                        a home-body
loved our home
our pets
my dad
us kids
her god

                        she took me to church
she had a lovely voice
taught sunday school
and looked after the sick
often took a dish to the covered dish suppers
i'm afraid church didn't take to me

                        lived a long time without complaint
died at 96
way too soon
i remember mama
i miss her everyday

May 12 2016

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

May 11, 2016 Poets United Midweek Motif, Birds/ The Red Wing Black Bird

The Red Wing Black Bird

                                               the red wing black birds are my favorites
if it is possible to have a favorite among birds
each creature perfect
but she with the red on her shoulders
singing her black bird song

                                                i know where to find her
she will always be
among the cat tails
she hangs on to the tall stalks
as they sway with the wind

                                               sometimes just a dark spot in the landscape
yet when she flies
the flash of red
tells me who she is

                                               only once did she come to my backyard feeder
i saw her from the window
thrilled that she would come
not her usual place
later, that same day she brought her mate

                                                a special day in my days of bird watching
she sang her black bird song
told me of the many places she had visited
told me her history
looked me in the eye
and then flew away
never looked back

                                               still i wait for her return

May 11, 2016

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

May 10, 2016 Writer's Digest/ When Everything Stops -- dVerse/ Doors

When Everything Stops

more often than i like
in the rural area of northern new mexico
the power goes off
everything stops

                 the silence can be deafening
so loud
i look for the volume button
to turn it down

                 suddenly i want to
wash a load of laundry
brush my teeth
watch my favorite program
need light to read

                 and just a suddenly i remember
i can do none of those things
everything i depend on
depends on energy
and the power has gone off

                nothing to be done
but to wait
to remember
i find myself moving
to the music i hear in your head
a little song forms on my lips
the sun sparkles on the waves
laughter is heard

               then i remember
it is all here
like the sun when behind a cloud
more often than not
just forgotten
because the power is on
i depend on it

                it does interfere with my inner life
my thoughts
my dreams
my memory of you
your smile
the twinkle in your eye
it all comes back when everything stops

May 10, 2016



front door
back door
side door
doors of every color

pass throughs
in and out
coming and going
kitty wants out
then wants to come back in

often marked
push to open
enter my heart
loving embrace

again often marked
close behind you
fuck off!
get out
don't come back

passage to cellar
room underground
clouds gather
storm on the horizon

                   trap door
merlin the magician
when least expected
on stage actor disappears
unmarked opening to my heart

                    ...and in the doorway there you are

May 10, 2016

Sunday, May 8, 2016

May 8, 2016 The Sunday Whirl #250/ The Water's Edge -- Sunday's Whirligig / Much Needed Rain

The Sunday Whirl #250

The Water's Edge

                         there is only one after                                

each time i return

                         it seems a different place 
of no news 
all is as it was

                         changes come slow
 don't show
 yet the colors seem different

                          the road more narrow
 isn't even on the map

                          as though in a trance
i follow the road
my journey the flow of the river

                          the chant i learned at sea
serves me well

                          stepping into the water
i call your name and i call my own

the only answer
the sound of a lonely fog horn
the cry of a gull

May 8, 2016

Sunday's Whirligig

Much Needed Rain

                      the weather report says no rain in sight
 little water to be had in the desert
we squander
waste always have

                      we were so blessed
all we needed
we were blind
didn't see

                       the sound of a rock falling 
into the empty well
echoes across the land
even today some gop argue
there is no global climate change

                        just a year ago
a farmer told me it wasn't true
if anyone should know the land
should be able to see
all is happening before our eyes
nothing to fear

                         but scientists (the great conspirators) say
it is all happening faster than they thought
glaciers melting
methane released
storms stronger
seawaters rising
flood coastlines
major cities in danger
a price to pay

                        the force of nature stronger than we
we bury our heads
beneath the sand
send rain today we pray
perhaps we will awake
a bad dream
                        wouldn't that be marvelous

May 7, 2016

Thursday, May 5, 2016

May 5, 2016 dVerse/ Sentiments of the Southwest

Sentiments of the Southwest

home on the range             the cowboys                     used to sing

purple mountain's majesty      through rarified air       mountains lay in watch

sacred mountain               mother mountain                adorned with skull

home on the range             the cowboys                     used to sing

boots and saddles            horses hooves stomp          shape shifters

dust devils rise up                spin                             and just as quickly disappear

home on the range              the cowboys                   used to sing

to the cattle                         on the old santa fe trail          roundup

rodeo                                  bull rider tight jeans            broken bones and all

home on the range              the cowboys                  used to sing

stars fly                               in the night time sky       chaco canyon

ancient old                         mysteries and secrets      whispered among the ruins

home on the range             the cowboys                    used to sing

low adobe walls                 pinion smoke in winter     hatch green chilies

roasting in the air               the smell of sage             after the rain

home on the range              the cowboys                    used to sing

shame                                  buried in the sand           land of enchantment

animal trails in the sage       silence of the night broken    coyote howls

May 5, 2016

Wednesday, May 4, 2016

May 4, 2016 Poets United Midweek Motif/ Secrecy


what is really secret after all         or are all things secret          your thoughts

your actions                         the very center of your heart         the way you look at me

your hand nestled into mine    the smile at the corner of your lips      if it is for all to see

is nothing secret      the words whispered       the writing on a small piece of folded paper

slipped into my pocket         a precious gift                      hidden among other treasures

plans and conspiracies        hatched in the darkest night                     my love for you

perhaps not posted on a billboard          yet...                             not secret either

May 4, 2016

May 4, 2016 Writer's Digest / A Different Realm

A Different Realm

when everything stops            in the silence after            get down to business

make a list                               throw out the trash            pay the bills

so much to do                          or nothing at all                 the clock ticks in the hall

the hands on the face               either spin out of control    or seem to have stopped

wait for the mail                      pinch yourself                     to see if you really are

turn on the tv                           they are speaking                a different language

you can't understand               no one can explain              you are in a different realm

you are neither                        king nor queen                    just passing through

May 4, 2016

Sunday, May 1, 2016

May 1, 2016 The Sunday Whirl -- Sunday's Whirligig/ A Dazzling Turth -- Poets United Poetry Pantry

A Dazzling Truth

a dazzling truth                  hard to find                     truth subjective

personal                      what is true for you                may not be true for me

and what is true for me    maybe not be true for you      grace is what i asked for

number one on my christmas list          and maybe yellow scrambled silken eggs

transformed by fire           shimmering on a purple place      the plate of knowing

that speaks to the table      words plain                        forthright

words of the father       a simple prayer                        gratitude expressed

we learned it all             in childhood                            after the black of night

dreams or nightmares    comes the light of a new day   in the land of the living

the dawn breaks            like the shell of the egg            the morning slides out

whisked into another page      white before me             all possibilities are here

the yearning continues    and maybe always will           something beyond myself

beyond my own skin       a boundless place                   from the window

i can see                           the world transformed            snow fell in the nightmares

and fell on this land         mesas and mountains              the sky still grey

a magic moment              is it true you asked                  for who i answer

my truth alone                 just two years ago                    the shell broken

i awoke in a new place   the snow continues                my own personal story

May 1, 2014

Taking time off.....

I am taking some time off from posting on my blog.  I am studying, practicing, have so much to learn....